


Close to Home

by platinumtrickster



Category: Mother 2: Gyiyg no Gyakushuu | EarthBound
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Emetophobia, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25020991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platinumtrickster/pseuds/platinumtrickster
Summary: You can’t go home anymore.Maybe it’s pride.  Maybe it’s shame.  Maybe you don’t even know why.  You just can’t.But you’ve thought about home every night for a while now.(Post-Earthbound.)
Kudos: 17





	Close to Home

_You can’t go home anymore._

_Maybe it’s pride. Maybe it’s shame. Maybe you don’t even know why. You just can’t._

_But you’ve thought about home every night for a while now._

Pokey thrummed his fingers on the table beside him as he looked out of his hotel window. Though dark outside, the city was illuminated by innumerable signs and cars and streetlights. It reminded him of Fourside in a lot of ways. Far too close for his comfort, if he had to be honest with himself, but he just had no idea where to _go_. Infinite worlds were out there and he couldn’t be bothered to pick one. They were all virtually the same anyhow. It’d take dozens if not hundreds of tries before he ever found something interesting.

Sometimes he’d find a universe where Giygas won. Sometimes he’d find a universe where he was never born. Sometimes he’d find a universe where the earth didn’t exist at all.

But most of the time, Pokey had no clue as to what was even different in each timeline. The most minute details could have been changed and he’d never know. He was working on finding some way to determine the differences, but he wasn’t any good with technology stuff. That old man who helped Ness and his friends could probably do it for him, but Pokey just didn’t feel like going all the way to Winters for that, even if it'd only take the blink of an eye.

He didn’t even have the energy to eat a majority of the time. And he didn’t seem to need to. No matter how little he ate, how little he drank, what he did, nothing about him changed. Pokey had been feeling strange for God only knew how long. He was terrible at keeping track of the days. He didn’t have any clue how much time had passed from the day he left the Cave of the Past to that very moment that he was experiencing.

Pokey wasn’t sure if he cared. But he was worried about what was happening in him. He felt sick all the time. The kind of sick that was indescribable. It was like _everything_ was wrong with him. The most obvious symptoms was that his skin was discolored. He was starting to look like those people in Eagleland that were under the influence of Giygas.

His blueish gray-tinged skin turned heads wherever he went. He looked like a corpse, bloated and sickly. Eating made him sick. He could usually stomach drinks, which he thanked God for every day. Where would he be without choking down a few glasses of whiskey each night? Pokey had no idea why parents were always so against kids drinking. It was fun and it didn’t bother _him_ any.

Well, it didn’t bother him nearly as much as eating did, but it still did hurt him. Still, he could tolerate the way it burned his throat and sent his stomach into stabbing pains. It was the price he paid for one small enjoyment each day.

Pokey wouldn’t have needed to sleep either if it weren’t for how exhausted he felt most days. And he couldn’t give up that luxury no matter how hard he tried. It was a comfort. But tonight, he just couldn’t sleep despite how tired he was. The rings under his eyes were getting darker, but nothing changed. He was just too restless here.

No kid should worry about the things he had to. He was sick like some feeble old man. He was homeless. He was running out of money.

He was running out of booze.

Pokey shifted in his chair, resting his arms and then chin on the table. His eyes drooped and watered while the sights of the city blurred to nothingness. He wanted to go _home_. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he remembered. Maybe everyone really missed him. Maybe he really missed everyone else, too.

But Pokey knew he couldn’t go home. Not after what he’d done. He signed his life away to Giygas in exchange for everything his little heart desired. And he got it. This is what Pokey _wanted_. He wanted freedom, to have some control over his life, to feel important for once. And he couldn’t go home because of Ness, either. Coming home would mean that Ness won, that Pokey was giving up the game once and for all.

Pokey could never give up his pride no matter how hard he tried. He was starting to hate the scene of this hotel now, though. He’d stayed here for nearly a month now. It was time for a change. He slowly dragged himself to his feet, wobbling unsteadily. He grabbed onto the table for support. The table trembled under the force of Pokey’s weight. The glass on the table fell to its side and rolled onto the floor. The glass exploded as it connected with the ground, the alcohol flying everywhere.

Pokey’s breath hitched at the sight of the smashed bottle. He looked around frantically. Had they seen–?

No, he was alone.

No one saw.

His parents would have flipped if he’d dropped a bottle in their house. Pokey could only imagine what they’d have said. Well, his dad wouldn’t have said anything at all. He was more fond of taking action when Pokey did something wrong.

Not that it mattered anymore. No one would ever know what he did while he was gone. But, God, Pokey knew that his dad would never let him hear the end of it if he came home. He’d be dead if he came back. There would be no explaining what he’d done or why. He was certain that his parents had signed his death warrant the second he didn’t come home when Ness did.

They did it happily, he was sure.

They wouldn’t be laughing if they saw Pokey now. They wouldn’t believe all that their little son had accomplished by himself.

Pokey would show them. He’d show everyone in that town who doubted him and laughed at him.

_You’d made up your mind ten minutes ago, anyhow._

_In a strange mixture of homesickness, hatred, and sadness, you decide to go home._

_Even though you promised you wouldn’t._

_Even though you hate it there._

_Even though you know better._

_You just can’t resist anymore. You have to do this._

Pokey climbed to the roof of the hotel. He’d left his spider mecha there. No one could see it unless he chose to make it visible. It was safe there while he enjoyed his little vacation, now over. He stumbled over the side of the mech, looking at the the panel in front of him. Ah, there. It had a return function. The oldest timeline was his, he knew that.

It was nighttime in Onett, too. His spider mecha landed at the top of the hill. The meteorite was still there. It glowed with a warmth that welcomed Pokey home. His head began to ache. He squinted in the light as he climbed out and wandered down the hill, his movements slow. His feet weren’t willing to carry him back to “home” anymore. A wave of nausea passed over him. Through it, he kept going.

The dirt path was so familiar, like an old friend he hadn’t seen in a long time. His house and Ness’ house poked out over the twisting hill, growing ever closer to him. He picked up the pace, though his lungs fought him.

The familiar lights of his home met his face and for a moment, Pokey just stood there, basking in the light. It was warm this evening, and the windows of his house were opened. They invited all to see and hear what was inside. Pokey could hear his parents screaming at each other. He couldn’t make out what it was about, and he didn’t want to. They were up in each others’ faces in the living room.

They must have been so tired of each other.

Pokey wandered around the side of the house, the screams staying with him the entire way, until he reached the backyard. He wanted to slip in through the back door, but that would put him in full view of his parents. He didn’t want to see them just yet. It’d get them to shut up, but his head was swimming from the booze. He didn’t even know what he’d say. Besides, that courage he’d had just moments before was leaving his body. He suddenly didn’t feel like going inside at all.

Why did he even come back?

Pokey sank to his knees, leaned against the house, and pressed his hands to his face. His body shook at the sudden realization of where he was. A dog began to bark. Ness’ mutt had spotted him from its yard. The squabbling between his parents intensified, then suddenly died down. From some window nearby, Pokey heard his mother shout, “SHUT UP!” at the dog before slamming the window shut.

His parents’ argument never picked back up to the loudness it had been. Now, their voices were hushed and hurried.

“You can’t _honestly_ expect–”

“Whatever, Aloysius. I’m going to bed.”

Thank God it was over. The headache Pokey had was now pounding almost as if his brain was trying to burst out of his skull. Slowly, all the lights in the house went out. The front door opened and closed. Pokey got to his feet again in the case that either of his parents would come near the backyard. He headed towards the side of the house and watched as his father walked away.

“AT LEAST LOCK THE FUCKING DOOR WHEN YOU LEAVE, ASSHOLE!” his mother screamed. She slammed the front door shut.

Pokey stayed still, pressed up at the side of the house, for a while. It would have felt like an eternity if he hadn’t already known what that felt like. He wanted to go inside now. He didn’t know why, but he felt like he had to. He crept forward after what must have been at least thirty minutes. He tiptoed to the front door. He tested it. Locked, like his mom had wanted. He swore, and wandered around to the back again where the sliding back door was.

Unlocked.

His mom had been so angry at his dad for not locking the front door that she’d forgotten the back one.

Pokey slid it openly as quietly as possible. He opened it only centimetres at a time until he had just enough room to enter. And so Pokey just stood there in the darkness of his home. He couldn’t believe he was there again after all this time. It was like nothing had changed.

With quiet steps he walked through the bottom floor, looking at everything. He stopped at the mantle and stared at the pictures that decorated it. He… wasn’t in any of them anymore. They were all pictures of his parents or Picky or some other relative. But none of him. Pokey continued on to check each picture on the wall. None of him. None of him at all.

Did they want to forget about him so badly? Pokey could feel tears well up in his eyes, but he angrily wiped them away. He’d given up on them, after all. Of course they wouldn’t care about him after he abandoned them. Pokey turned away from the photos. Maybe he could sneak upstairs and get some stuff from his room. Well, they’d probably given it to Picky, but it was _Pokey’s_ room no matter what.

Pokey paused at the kitchen. His parents always kept alcohol around. He could have gone for a drink right about then. He rummaged through the cabinets, looking for any bottle left by his parents. He checked the fridge too, and nothing. Just leftovers and soda and everything else. Pokey just stared. He wasn’t even sure what he was staring at.

“…Pokey?”

Pokey snapped out of his trance. At the foot of the stairs was Picky. He hadn’t even heard his brother coming down the stairs.

Pokey ran.

“Pokey, come back!” Picky cried as he hurried after him.

Pokey slipped through the gap in the back door again. He dashed through the backyard. He ignored all of the pleas from his brother. No, no, no, no. He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t ready yet. He needed to get out of here. Back to the spider mecha and back to a safe time.

Pokey tripped over a rock. He smashed his face into the dirt. He groaned and rolled over. Picky finally caught up with him and skidded to a halt, then kneeling down at his brother’s side.

“ _Pokey_ ,” Picky said, his voice a whisper. “It’s you.”

Pokey laid in the dirt and stared up at the sky. “I don’t feel so good.”

“H-Huh?”

He propped himself up on his elbows and turned to the side to vomit. Picky made an uncomfortable sound, and reluctantly set his hand on Pokey’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

Pokey stared at his knees, his scuffed shoes. “No.” He exhaled shakily, wiping his mouth. “But it doesn’t matter.”

Picky didn’t have any response to that. Instead, he asked, “Where have you _been_?”

“Nowhere.”

“You had to be somewhere. Why did you leave? Why did you–”

“Shut the fuck up, Picky.”

“What?”

“I said shut the _fuck_ up, Picky.”

Pokey got to his feet and brushed the dirt off of his suit. He jabbed at finger in Picky’s face, approaching him slowly while his little brother stumbled backwards. “You couldn’t even _begin_ to comprehend what I’ve been doing. What I’ve done would make you wish you’d never seen me again. Now, let me set something straight for you: I’m never coming back to this fucking place. This whole thing? It was a mistake. I saw how there were no pictures of me. I saw how they still hate each other. I know that if I come back, I’m gonna get the _shit_ beaten out of me. And that’s just how it’ll always be.”

Picky’s face twisted into something hurt. He was trying not to cry. His hands were in tense balls as he backed up against the hillside. Pokey almost wanted to slap his brother, but no. He took one good look at Picky and turned to walk up the hill. He knew Picky wouldn’t fight him on it.

“Take me with you,” Picky said, scrambling to follow his brother. “Please. I’m begging you.”

Pokey didn’t reply. He just kept on walking up towards where he’d left his spider mecha. He opened up the cockpit and climbed up. Picky pleaded again.

“Please, Pokey. Let me go with. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

Pokey hesitated. His hand rested on his controls. He was just a few inputs away from being rid of this place for another eternity. He looked to Picky. Tears were streaming down his little brother’s face now. His breaths were shaky. A lumped formed in Pokey’s throat at the sight.

“ _Please._ ”

Pokey looked back to his control panel.

“No.”

He kept his eyes averted from where his brother was standing as he started the mech. Picky didn’t say anything more. He must have just watched him leave in silence, knowing he wouldn’t be able to change his brother’s mind no matter how hard he tried. The spider mecha disappeared from the little town of Onett and it never returned.

_You know what you did was wrong._

_But you can’t feel bad. You did what you had to._

_Or maybe that’s the line you use to convince yourself that leaving Picky behind was best for you. But you had plenty of other excuses in case you couldn’t convince yourself of that._

_You can’t take care of him. Picky wouldn’t be able to handle it. Picky would be happier at home._ _Picky would be better off without you._

_But you know that’s all a lie._

_You just won’t do it._


End file.
